


Early Retirement

by Isis



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Bodyswap, Gen, Horror, Implied Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Trick or Treat: Trick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-20 11:54:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12432285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isis/pseuds/Isis
Summary: Yuri was raised to be Victor's replacement.Literally.





	Early Retirement

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Merit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merit/gifts).



> I couldn't resist this prompt. BWAHAHAHA.

The fans applauded wildly at every jump, at every graceful spin. It was only a practice skate, but Victor was giving it everything he had. Which fooled the fans, at least. It didn't fool Yuri.

"You don't have it anymore, old man," he sneered as Victor left the rink, his brow beaded with sweat, dark stains under his armpits. "It's time to make your final bow."

"I'm fine," Victor said. He looked at Yakov. "I'm fine, right?"

"Well," said Yakov. "You are not getting the height that you should."

"Power isn't the only element in skating."

"But you don't have it!" crowed Yuri. "Your timing's off. Your height's off. I heard your knees creak on that last landing. Face it, gramps, you're history."

"Am I?" There was a strange look of desperation on Victor's face – and also pity, which was really weird, because if there was any pitying going on it should be Yuri pitying Victor, which he totally didn't. Victor had had his time in the spotlight. It was Yuri's turn.

Yakov sighed. "I am afraid so," he said, and then he held something out in his gloved hands, some kind of metallic-looking stick.

"I'm sorry, Yuri," said Victor, as he took the stick from Yakov by one end. He extended the other end toward Yuri. "Here."

"Passing the baton, eh?" Yuri reached for the stick. But Victor didn't let go of his end. Instead there was a sharp pain, and a flash of light, and then everything went dark.

* * *

He woke up to a light being shone into his eyes. "There, he's awake," said the girl who was hovering over him. There were lots of people hovering over him. "Are you all right now? I guess you overdid it."

"I didn't do anything!" His voice sounded weird. As he pulled himself up to a sitting position he realized that it wasn't just his voice. His body felt weird, too. Like it was the wrong shape, or the wrong size. Like someone had taken him apart and put him back together in the wrong way.

"You skated so beautifully!" cried another girl.

"You pushed too hard," said Yakov. "Come on, up you go."

"But I didn't do anything," said Yuri as he let Yakov pull him to his feet. "Victor was skating."

There was a silence. Then: "He must have hit his head," said one of the girls.

Yakov shooed them away. "Go, go, leave him alone, he must rest." When they'd gone, his old coach looked at him; his eyes were hard and stony. "Come along, Victor. Yuri was right. You're too old for this."

"But I'm –"

"You're light-headed. And I think you have hurt something in your leg when you fell. Go back to your apartment, Victor. And don't come back to the rink."

* * *

Yuri watched himself skate. On the television; it was too painful to go to the rink and be surrounded by fans clamoring to talk to him, by newsmen who thrust their microphones in his face and asked him how he was enjoying his retirement.

It wasn't _his_ retirement. It was _Victor_ 's retirement, and Yuri _hated_ it.

He was stuck with Victor's dog. He _hated_ dogs. Yakov wasn't returning his calls. That stupid Japanese skater who had stolen his name texted him constantly. 

The worst part was watching himself skate. He had to admit he was better than ever before. His technical brilliance, his strength, his control; Victor's sense of nuance and artistry. Once he would have been gleeful at every review that extolled the magnificent Yuri Plisetsky. How his raw talent had matured into a breathtaking phenomenon who effortlessly dominated the world stage. 

But that wasn't him down there, executing flawless toe loops and axels. It was Victor. Victor had stolen his body and his career and left him a broken-down ex-skater with a receding hairline and a stupid dog.

His phone chimed.

_if you won't skate come back and coach me, I miss you xxx_

Well. Maybe he _could_ go to Japan. Steal Victor's boyfriend. It wouldn't make up for everything Victor had stolen from him, but it would be a start.

For the first time since he'd woken up in Victor's body, Yuri smiled.


End file.
